


statement #0141302: truthful delusion

by smallredboy



Category: Hannibal (TV), The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Behavior, Crossover, Gaslighting, Gen, Medical Trauma, Minor Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Murder, Statement Fic, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:27:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22821763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallredboy/pseuds/smallredboy
Summary: "Statement of Will Graham, regarding his psychiatrist's ability to fend off suspicion from anyone but himself. Statement taken direct from subject, 13th February, 2014. Statement begins."
Comments: 11
Kudos: 80
Collections: Genprompt Bingo Round 17





	statement #0141302: truthful delusion

**Author's Note:**

> **gen prompt bingo:** freestyle crossover
> 
> i had to like, push the TMA timeline a little to make it make sense with the Hannibal one, so in this Jon became the head archivist somewhere in 2013.
> 
> enjoy!

"Statement of Will Graham, regarding his psychiatrist's ability to fend off suspicion from anyone but himself. Statement taken direct from subject, 13th February, 2014. Statement begins."

Will feels an odd sensation across his body at the gaze of Jonathan Sims. He went to England with the express purpose of contacting the Magnus Institute and giving them his statement, but to everyone else he just  _ went on a vacation _ to  _ clear his thoughts _ after all that had happened to him. He looks like a wreck, he knows he does, but he's sure this place has seen far worse. And the man taking his statement with an old tape recorder doesn't look much better than him, lanky and tall, brown skin and gray hairs all over him, although he is far too young for them.

He wonders what he's seen.

He clears his throat, and he starts talking.

"You may have heard of me; you may have not. My case really didn't make it too far away from Maryland in the States, and I'm sure that for you Londoners  _ Will Graham _ does not ring any bells. But you might want to do your research; there's plenty of information about my trial. To spare you hours digging into tabloid articles, I was arrested in five counts of murder, all of which I did not commit. I spent over a month at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane before it ended in a mistrial." He pauses and glances over at Jonathan Sims, who's looking at him intently, curiosity taking over his factions. "Before you ask, it ended in a mistrial because the judge was brutally murdered… brutally murdered by the Chesapeake Ripper. I'm sure  _ that _ name is familiar to you."

Jonathan Sims swallows. "Yes. We have a few statements about him, I believe.

"Any mention Dr. Hannibal Lecter?"

He pauses. "I would have to check," he says. "But I don't think so, no."

He sighs. "Of course. Well, he's the Chesapeake Ripper, and he framed me for the murders I did not commit." He looks away at a point off in the distance, at one of the books in the shelves all around them. It's all quite dusty. "I know I sound insane to you— I've sounded insane to everyone I've told about this. But I'm sure you've seen far worse.

"For some context, I guess I have to bring up my job. I was a teacher at the FBI academy in Baltimore, Maryland until Agent Jack Crawford came to me and asked me to consult him on the case of the Minnesota Shrike— a man who kidnapped girls who looked just like his daughters. Anyhow, I started working as a profiler for the FBI. I wasn't exactly an agent, but I worked for them. I'm a good profiler because I'm hyper-empathetic, and I can reconstruct what was going through these killers' minds. I'm quite the talk on psychiatric circles.

"I tried to become an actual FBI agent when I was younger, but I didn't pass through because I was too  _ unstable. _ So teaching it was. Profiling was traumatic, especially to someone  _ unstable, _ and Jack Crawford knew this. So he set me up to get checked up by Dr. Hannibal Lecter.

"He tried to dismiss me out of hand and rubber stamp me until I killed the Minnesota Shrike and I started having psychotic symptoms. Then he became my psychiatrist. It wasn't official, we often said we were just  _ having conversations, _ but matter of fact was that he was my psychiatrist. And then I just kept getting worse, and worse, and worse. He never offered to get me on medication. I insisted that I knew what kind of crazy I was, that this wasn't it, and we went to a neurologist— a neurologist who then turned up  _ dead _ — and they said I didn't have anything. Two weeks later, when I got framed, I was said to have anti-NMDA encephalitis. My hallucinations, seizures, time and memory loss… they all went away with the medication. I was clearer. And even without recovering the memories I had lost, I still immediately knew that Hannibal Lecter had been the one to frame me.

"I escaped the vehicle and I went to his place. He drove me to Minnesota willingly. He smiled as I told him that I knew what he was, asking me what did I see. He was so sure of himself and so unafraid— he didn't deny anything. Anyone else would've denied it, wouldn't they? If a crazy guy came up to you and started saying you had framed him for murder and that you were a serial killer, I'm sure most people would've said  _ no, what the fuck, I didn't do that. _ But he didn't reply… he just let me point a gun at him. And then Jack Crawford came in and shot me in the arm so I wouldn't shoot Hannibal Lecter.

"No one has listened to my suspicions. They act as if I'm still psychotic, as if the encephalitis doesn't explain away all of my symptoms. They say carefully that I might be having false memories. I remembered light… there was light as Hannibal talked me through some procedure. It was bright and fire-hot and I couldn't see where it was coming from. I mentioned the light to him and he didn't react to it; he said it felt fine. It  _ didn't _ feel fine.

"I've tried to make people believe me. I've remembered his hands being strange and  _ bony _ as he somehow put Abigail Hobbs' ear down my throat. I remember his gloved hand, pressing against my mouth. And everyone thinks it's false memories. No one understands that I've been profiling  _ him _ this whole time. I've talked about how he must be someone involved with the FBI, that has access to records and knowledge of the cases, that passes as completely normal, as he lacks a motive; and that's why he's so hard to catch. But there's a difference between someone being hard to catch and someone being invisible to the FBI. And Hannibal is the latter.

"I've also realized that he has been giving us his victims as food. They tested his food at one of his dinner parties and it was  _ normal _ meat, but I know it isn't most of the time. I know what he's been feeding me. And he — he's almost  _ smug _ about this. There's no paranoia in him smiling at me and telling me I'm being delusional, with this twitch of his mouth that says I am right on every goddamn count. I know what he is, but he's either out of this world or he's just  _ that _ good at hiding, I don't know, but — I have been snared by the Chesapeake Ripper.

"I tried to get him killed. Matthew Brown, one of the workers at the asylum I was in, was obsessed with the murders that were not mine, and I told him to kill Hannibal Lecter. He almost succeeded. Of course, he hasn't shared with me what Hannibal said to him while he was hanging him — too busy being in custody — but I'm sure, I'm sure that he didn't deny his claims, just like he didn't with me.

"He feeds off my paranoia. Of knowing I'm right but no one believing it. I've had to pretend everything is fine, now. That I don't know what he is. That sending him to be killed was a mistake I did while under huge amounts of traumatic stress. But he knows the truth. We've resumed therapy, and I tell him to not lie to me.

"He doesn't lie to me. He never says it outright, of course, he knows I could be recording, but he has stopped lying. The other day I asked him what does he think about when he thinks about killing. He replied he thinks about God. He kills; he's admitted to me that he kills. But no one will ever believe me. Not even you. You're probably already writing notes about how I'm just a paranoid schizophrenic with severe delusions."

"I am not doing that, Mr. Graham," Jonathan Sims says, voice thick as he looks at him.

"Why not? What did I say that made you take me a little bit seriously?"

Jonathan Sims draws in a breath. "Your mention of Hannibal Lecter's hands being strange and bony. Some… encounters with some creatures with the same characteristics have made me take your statement a tad more seriously."

He makes a noise of agreement. "Okay. But… yes. I doubt you can do much about it, considering my situation and how you're on the other side of the ocean, but you'll hear about Hannibal Lecter's death  _ or _ arrest very soon. And I'll be the culprit in both cases." He takes a deep breath. "God, that felt good. Taking it off my chest felt really good. Do you need anything else?"

"No," Jonathan Sims replies. "I think that's all. We'll contact you in case of any developments in regards to your statement."

"Well, I'll be behind say  _ developments, _ " he says. "So you won't have to."

* * *

"The Chesapeake Ripper surrendered to the FBI," Tim says over a cup of coffee, downing most of it in one sip.

"We have a bunch of statements about that guy," Martin comments.

"Yeah, but I assume only one of them has any merit," Jon says tiredly. "What's his identity, after all?"

"Um…" Tim looks over the news with his tablet. "Some ex-surgeon, now psychiatrist named Hannibal Lecter."

Jon clicks his tongue. "Yeah, only one with any merit. I'll try and find it in my tape recorders."

* * *

"Hello?" Martin Blackwood says through the phone, thick accent coming through the speakers.

"Hi, I'd like to speak with Jonathan Sims. I'm Will Graham, I gave a statement there about two years ago about the Chesapeake Ripper. I'd like to do a small follow up."

Martin swallows. "Of course. Jon, it's for you. Some dude named Will Graham?"

"Oh, yes!" Jon replies, taking the phone in his hands. "Hello, Mr. Graham."

"Hello," he says. "I don't know if you've heard about this, but Hannibal Lecter surrendered to the FBI and admitted to being the Chesapeake Ripper. He escaped with my help, we killed a guy together, and now we're on the run together."

Jon blinks. "I didn't expect that, but yes, I've heard of some of it."

"Well, I just wanted to inform you that he's confided in me about his nature as a creature. He says he's an avatar of what he calls The Spiral and The Flesh. The Spiral with his typical demeanor— making people feel like they're going crazy, all of that, The Flesh with his actual murders, which are all very grotesque."

"I've got information in regards to the Entities, yes," Jon nods. "That makes sense. For him to be involved with those Entities, I mean."

"He says he killed the original Hannibal Lecter when he was around eight, right before his sister was killed. So, yeah. Basically, the Chesepeake Ripper is, in fact, a supernatural creature. Got confirmation and everything."

"And what are you doing with the Chesepeake Ripper now, Mr. Graham?"

"Oh, we're on the run!" he says happily. "He didn't kidnap me or anything. I just sort of pushed us both off a cliff. It's a long story. Anyhow, we're together and killing people together." He hums. "You can call the FBI about this, file a report, whatever, but this cellphone is untraceable and besides, I'm throwing it away after we finish this, so it doesn't particularly matter. Them knowing he didn't kidnap me would be good, though."

"Do you think that, perhaps, you're becoming an avatar of The Flesh yourself?" Jon asks, voice even as he scribbles down information for a FBI report. 

"Probably," he says, chuckling a little. "I certainly do feel less human every passing day; I feel  _ better _ than that. I'm sure you can relate."

Jon hums. "I can relate, indeed."

There's a long pause.

"Hannibal's telling me about where our next murder should be, so I'll get going. Thank you, Jonathan Sims. Again, you can report this, I don't care. Bye!"

Jonathan looks down at his phone as Will Graham hangs up, and decides against filing a report on the call.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! leave a kudo or a comment if you liked it!


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